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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178716">Coefficient</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sampphic/pseuds/SharpsBox'>SharpsBox (Sampphic)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Battle For Dream Island (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Breaking the Fourth Wall, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Crack, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Implied Sexual Content, Love Hotels, Memes, My First Fanfic, One Shot, Other, Why Did I Write This?, literal plot hole, no actual smut, not beta read we just die, semi-shitpost</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 07:02:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,725</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25178716</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sampphic/pseuds/SharpsBox</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>On one of their few break days, the two hosts of BFB fall through a plot hole.<br/>Both have to spend the night in a love hotel, where levity ensues.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Four/X (Battle For Dream Island)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Coefficient</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>To you I present... the seventy-eighth work to be submitted to the BFDI fandom, which plays on another tired trope. Of course.<br/>Fear not, this fic doesn't involve cheese.</p><p>(note: Four &amp; X are genderless, but both go by he/him in this fic.)</p><p>With that in mind, welcome to not only my first post here, but also my personal shipping hell. Enjoy your stay.</p><p>edit 3 (24th feb 2021): I no longer hold some of the headcanons in this fic. this was written back when I was an idiot (though I still am), green to the fandom and one of those “two is an asshole i detest them!!1!” fans. i like them a lot more now that TPOT is out and we’ve gotten to see more of them.</p><p>idk, should I de-anon? i’m not that ashamed of being tied to the fic as much as I just find it cringeworthy, even for crack.</p><p>one thing that still stays the same, however, is my affinity for 4x and writing oversweet fluff. see ya round.</p><p>- sharps</p><p>edit 4 (30 march 2021): de-anon'd</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Road work ahead? Uh yeah, I sure hope it does-“</p><p>“Four?”</p><p>Four turned to X while expressing his mild concern, his arms maneuvering the car from a rustic steering wheel. Hopefully nobody had the nerve to affront either of them - after all, this was a rare opportunity to spend time together. <em> We finally get to relax for one of a few break days per month, and something’s already gone wrong? Seriously, why can’t we catch a break? </em></p><p>“Who do I need to screech, Exie?”</p><p>“I can't figure out why, but something feels off. To be specific, we’ve driven right into a plothole.”</p><p>“Don’t you mean a potho-”</p><p> </p><p>His words cut off when a sudden force of suction surged from within the ground. Indeed, it was another fluke in the setting - within the sliver of a second they sunk into this gaping error, enveloped by an intangible void of warbling, white noise and words darting past their eyes.</p><p>In spite of the fear forming across the face of his co-host, he remained nonchalant, if not annoyed by yet another disruption.</p><p>“Ah shit, here we go again.”</p><p>Past the duo swam scripts, scrapped concept after concept. It was mainly scribed in a peculiar dialect which neither of them could fathom, save for a few comprehensible chunks of text.</p><p>
  <em> “My name is Ebony Dark’ness Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair with purple streaks and red tips that reaches-” </em>
</p><p>“I can only hope nobody’s multiplied you by zero again!“</p><p>Being trapped in a foreign body, unable to act consciously as a contestant attempted to take over his role was uncomfortable, to say the least. Even sloshing within the confines of a syringe was bearable, compared to watching himself lose control for nearly three months.</p><p>“You get used to it.”</p><p>Four wrapped X in his lanky arms in a futile attempt at reassurance. <em> We should survive falling into a mass of poorly written drabble and a never-ending pit. People fall into plotholes all the time, right? They shouldn’t sustain too much harm, albeit the inability to explain a change in appearance or acting in an uncharacteristic manner. </em></p><p>“Hold on, love. Until the scenery re-stabilizes, prepare for some turbulence.”</p><p>Before existence closed in on them, a lone, shrill screech resounded within the transient walls.</p><p> </p><p>“Where in the vinculum are we?” </p><p>With Four’s remark, X snapped back into consciousness, sorely relieved to see his partner sitting up unscathed.</p><p>“Oh my e, YOU’RE ALIVE!” The shorter symbol sobbed into Four’s shoulder, as the pair embraced in relief.</p><p>“Yes, but where are we supposed to stay now? We just fell through a plothole a few hours ago, so we can’t exactly find our way back to the house.”</p><p>Examining the tapering streets they wandered upon, they had exactly two options - a decaying, pitiful hovel of an inn, or a crowded, costly hotel. Two choices, neither of which were feasible. </p><p>The shack had flies hovering around it with a fetid stench wafting from its windows, which ruled it out from being a viable option. </p><p>Evading payment was the least of their problems, so neither of them were financially hindered from staying at their second hotel. However, he recognized the atmosphere, the roads, everything down to the structure of their surroundings - from past experience, he knew the other numbers would frequent this mirrored world.</p><p>Which made it unviable, as many other numbers were on his ass for neglecting his former role. </p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Getting morbidly curious about a jar of cyanide from several thousand miles away, exclaiming, “IT’S FREE REAL ESTATE!”, hightailing it to Goiky and leaving a hole in the atmosphere with my partner-in-crime wasn’t the wisest decision I’ve made, was it? I can’t risk them noticing and remembering me as the idiot who bailed from being a square number. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I can’t remind the whole planet of my ‘betrayal’, because for all I know, everyone is waiting to punish me for my failure to comply with this bullshit. Not after leaving everything and everyone behind, save for my familiar. Certainly not after escaping for fuck all reasons, briefly flipping everyone off on my way out. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Especially not that smug ass Two, who’s my square root and according to the system, my superior? Always going on about how being one of the main Primes entitled them to do anything as they pleased. God, I never liked them.  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, look how cute the hearts on this sign are!”</p><p>“X, that’s gay.“</p><p>“...Four, we’ve been dating-”</p><p>Sure enough, a candy-colored billboard stood shamelessly before them, the sickly sweet semiotics of the sign only rivaled by pretentious neon lettering: LOVERS’ LOUNGE. Inspecting the guarantees printed, Four read out, “Solo? Duo? Trio, or any more? We’ll give you the time of your night and make your night worth your ti-“</p><p>Without giving it any more thought, X finalized, “LET’S SPEND THE NIGHT THERE!”</p><p>Before he could finish his sentence, X hastily dragged him towards this awkwardly amorous abode.</p><p> </p><p><em> Why the hell did I agree to this? </em>As much as he loved his accomplice, even trial-and-error couldn’t salvage this fuckup in foresight. The sugary symbols screamed out the sole purpose of the inn - for plot convenience, this was simply too embarrassing to explain to X.</p><p>Thankfully the reception was sparse, save for a selection screen - somehow, falling into a plot hole had no bearing on Four’s powers, so there was a solution. It was only a temporary one, though.</p><p>“Close your eyes, the hallways here are pretty sketchy. I wouldn’t look too closely if I were you.”</p><p>“How exactly, though? I've told you, I’m not scared of monsters or the dark!”</p><p>The integer could only softly chuckle, as this claim wasn’t true. To be fair, he didn’t sleep a wink after watching horror movies. Partly because he was re-evaluating everything he knew about the paranormal, but with his boyfriend dozing off peacefully in his embrace, he sure as hell didn’t want a faceless abomination to tear them to pieces, either.</p><p>“They’re plainly mysterious. Hurry up, let’s teleport to an empty room before they grab us.”</p><p>And in the blink of an eye a room door clicked shut, occupied with two out-of-place visitors.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> Alright. Now, I just have to watch out for practically everything. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> ...Easier said than done. </em>
</p><p>Without a second to think, he instinctively panicked when he noticed X shuffling through the contents of a compact, matte-black box. <em> Cripes, I haven’t put those away. </em></p><p>“Hey Four, check these out!”</p><p>“Uh, X? I don’t think these are what you think they are.”</p><p>When Four turned around to look at X, sure enough, he was laying out numerous dubious foil packets across the table, in various sizes, shapes and colors. Before he could put them back, he heard a tearing sound followed by X yapping, innocently rejoicing in a newfound knick-knack. </p><p>“Ooh, look at these adorable little balloons! Although they’re flipped inside-out they still look fun to play with.”</p><p>Barely hiding an expression of dying inside, Four gathered the remaining wrappers with the intentions of setting them aside. Away they vanished into the palm of his hand, much to the bemusement of everyone stuck in EXIT.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p>
  <em> All at once, commotion cluttered the inescapable classroom. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “What are THOOOOSE?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “They do look an awful lot like Poppers…” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “You aren’t wrong, but why in the name of Goik are they wrapped?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Dadadadadadadadadadadadada-“ </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Who cares about these peculiar packets? We’ve got even more packets of plus-four questions to slog through.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Well, I knew this weird guy before I got dragged into this decade-long contest. A bit airheaded at times, but reliable, flexible and protective. His name was-” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Their discussion was once more disrupted by a sharp scream, a noise they were all too familiar with. And just like that, everyone in EXIT was out cold. </em>
</p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>“Four? You still here?”</p><p>Returning to external consciousness, Four responded briefly, “X, I’m alright. Just popped out for a second to monitor the EXIT. With that taken care of, how about we explore the rest of this room?”</p><p>“Sure thing!”</p><p>The bedroom was appropriately designed with privacy and passion, but no practicality in mind. Cherry-red clip art hearts decorated haphazardly painted walls, complete with an intact watermark throughout the repeat pattern. Panes of rose-tinted glass leaned into the sides of a wall, with frilly lilac curtains to complete an obnoxiously intimate atmosphere. </p><p>Most amusing of all, however, was the king size bed sitting in the centre of the suite. Adorning the blankets, pillowcases and sheets was a garish repeat pattern of come-hither text faces, colloquially known as ‘Lennies’.</p><p>Sprawled upon the duvet was a long line of plush bunnies, posed to mimic a game of close-range conga. The sheets were surprisingly soft enough to pass out on, especially after supervising unruly contestants and a full class of eliminated students with few rest hours per day.</p><p> </p><p>As both opened the sliding door of the bathroom, a familiar fragrance flowed through the air, once more diverting X’s mind towards buried memories.</p><p>
  <em> Half of my naysayers had the decency not to sugarcoat their contempt towards me - but the rest clamored that I was the best, the most useful, a tool for testing out their theories and nothing much else. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Any time my fellow symbols asked to hang out, I was too busy being harassed with unwanted attention. Inevitably, a rift widened between us - save from passing greetings, I was never free to befriend more than a few letters. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> In hindsight, the only digit who didn’t regard me as part of a greater total, but an independent value was Four. After years of being a cog in the wheel, that was one of few times anyone acknowledged me as a lone symbol. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why did so many of them insist on making me part of such oddly specific figures? I am not a part of sixty-nine, thirty-four, six-hundred and sixty-six or four-hundred and twenty, but X! </em>
</p><p>
  <em>One memory remains fresh in my head - the day my best friend and I exiled to Goiky, we unceremoniously face-planted in an open field of greenery. Landing on my face at four hundred miles on my head undoubtedly gave me a concussion, but what exactly yanked us back into consciousness? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> None other than the scent of daffodils, getting an earful for ruining someone’s garden and dodging a rusty pitchfork. Quite a warm welcome, indeed. </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Out of the corner of his eye, X noticed a small pile of magazines, finished with colorful covers and glossy lamination. For the first time in ages, this reading material wasn’t Golf Ball’s insights on the nonexistent Goikan economy, or another issue of Petals &amp; Popularity. Sitting on the bed and humming, he flipped through the pages to reveal slender-legged numbers, all of them sitting in coquettish poses and fishnet tights. His quiet moment of confusion was only interrupted by a horrified Four, whose usual unnerving smile bent into that of a grimace.</p><p>“Pardon my interjection, but what the actual fuck? For the love of God, don’t tell me they’re a fellow four like me! Why is their head painfully fused into a triangle and not forked out?”</p><p>“...That’s certainly strange. I wish a good evening to everyone, except whoever approved of this.”</p><p>“Care to explain why they’re all wearing next to nothing?”</p><p>“Quartet, none of us are wearing anything. In contrast, it’s odd that they’re even clad in any type of garments.”</p><p>Four took a quick glance and realized, indeed, that X was right. Nothing concealed their poorly drawn forms, sans a lack of illustration and reliance on literary description.</p><p>“For once, you’ve got a valid point. Let’s pretend we didn’t see that disgraceful digit and continue flipping.”</p><p> </p><p>They continued poring over number models, going from single digits to shapely double or even triple-digit figures. As much as his confidante was simply fascinated by their endless values, the integer wasn’t as interested in them as much as he was mind-blown by the cube numbers. <em> Eight and Twenty-Seven really do pop out of the page, tho ugh... </em></p><p>After half an hour of flipping through number after number in skimpy attire, they gingerly set the magazines aside on a nightstand, hand in hand. Four was cleared of his concerns, certain that he had no more weird shit to explain. At least that was the case, until he noticed the hot-pink remote sitting by a bedside lamp.</p><p>That damned remote of regret.</p><p>With his other arm around X, he picked it up, pointed it towards the sizable TV and pressed the rubbery green button. Only a split second later did it dawn on him - in such a hotel, the TV would default to less conventional channels.</p><p>In the drop of a hat, both of them lay witness to a plant fervently rubbing pollen all over itself, a look of pure bliss on its face. The number sheepishly grinned back at his variable partner, who remained surprisingly calm, if a bit confused. Instinctively, Four clicked to another channel, inadvertently stumbling upon a more bewildering poor-quality flick.</p><p>
  <b>Click.</b>
</p><p>They now watched as a trespasser stole limes from a tree, sneaking them into their lingerie as two women doted on each other and discussed the fruits of their work. </p><p>“I’m so glad that our lime tree has finally grown and sprouted fruitful limey limes.”</p><p>“I mean - imagine, we can make limeade, key lime pie, lime meringue…”</p><p>“I think we should go to the bank and get a loan. Actually, I think we should just get lime tree insurance, get a loan then use the lime tree as collateral because it’s now insured.”</p><p>“They’re so beautiful, I wish I was a lime.”</p><p>“You wish you were a lime? If you were a lime, I would put you on my shelf and cherish you like I cherish all our limes.”</p><p>Now equally bewildered and wishing that his powers included turning invisible too, he switched to a third channel.</p><p>
  <b>Click.</b>
</p><p>Great. This was one of Yellow Face’s less finer advertisements, that he hoped nobody would ever come across. Unfortunately, now his former hosts knew of these promotions.</p><p>“HEY! In the spur of the moment, do you need an extra helping hand?”</p><p>
  <b>Click.</b>
</p><p>To both of their shock, it was a clip of Ruby singing a strange song to Flower, as the plant hid a face of pain. Much to her floral friend’s chagrin, the gemstone continued performing her tune of peculiarity.</p><p>“Two trucks having sex-”</p><p>
  <b>Click.</b>
</p><p>“OBJECTS THAT I’VE SHOVED UP MY AR-”</p><p>
  <b>Click.</b>
</p><p>As Four hopelessly searched through channel after channel, X’s expression shortly changed into that of perplexion. Until any of them could get up and find the catalog, they sat through strange programme after programme, praying that the TV didn’t go haywire from rapidly changing stations.</p><p>“Sei, what the hell was all of that?”</p><p>“I haven’t a clue in the slightest. Let’s hope that out of all these weird channels, there’s a somewhat normal one.”</p><p> </p><p>After a few more minutes of awkwardness, strange noises from the TV and nervous Laughter, they finally found a mundane nature documentary, recorded in an ocean far from the shores of Goiky. Even from behind an electronic screen, their minds travelled within mesmerizing waters of the sea. For a frame of time, they slipped into a state of serenity - bound by solitude, arms around each other, only surrounded by ambience and tones of idyllic, yet mysterious blue. </p><p>The symbols’ thoughts and feelings merged into harmony, all the contrasting tinges of their minds blending into a new color.</p><p>
  <em> “Damn. Is this what it really feels like to be at peace, even for a few minutes?” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “That’s the closest we might ever get, but you know what? I wouldn’t trade this fleeting moment for all the time in the world.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>In the midst of revelling in thought, a string of squeaking mattress springs and curse words yanked them back into reality. Returning to his surroundings, Four slapped his face in irritation and exasperation. While he could dismiss the occasional whine, creaking bed or thud on the floor, the people upstairs were not muffled by soundproofing.</p><p>
  <em> Of course. We happen to be interrupted in the middle of some peaceful relaxation, by the guests who are inevitably noisy. Fun times. </em>
</p><p>To no success, Four attempted to use his powers to drown out the noise. Even when he regularly let out ear-splitting screams, such a raucous distraction could not be ignored. Unless the tenants upstairs ceased subjecting everyone in the vicinity to their show, he and his associate would have to grin and bear a hours-long bed-rocking opera, with no intermission anytime soon.</p><p>“Do you hear those sounds as well, my inumberato? Those people sure don’t sound like they’re okay… hopefully, neither of them are in pain. I wish they weren’t so vocal about it, though.” </p><p>In all honesty, Four never expected total silence from a cheap place - even so, he’d rather not be kept awake by others’ escapades. Especially not when they seemed to be challenging each other to a noise-making competition, each of them growing consecutively louder every round.</p><p>He looked back on his promise to never subject anyone to his screaming again, reviewing the best course of action to take - unsurprisingly, he had no other way to silence them but to break his vow once more.</p><p>Noise complaints were out of the question, for they had barged into a room with no intentions of paying up. In addition, being seen by anyone would cause trouble - after all, both him and X were aliens, so the staff would likely lose composure upon seeing them. Worse yet, they could run into another number and be rebuked for fleeing their world of origin.</p><p>Earplugs were ineffective at blocking out the unwelcome symphony overhead, and the sounds of the TV at its highest volume barely detracted from the shenanigans nearby. With no other option but to subject others to auditory torment, he needed to manage this mess.</p><p> </p><p>“Xylitol, could I teleport upstairs for a bit? I’ll nicely ask them to be quiet.”</p><p>Leniency, however, was a far cry from his method of intervention. As soon as he found the source of the racket, he first knocked, and interrupted, “Hey! Could you be quieter in there?” Unsurprisingly he received no response but more headboard slamming and uncouth conversation. No luck.</p><p>With no other decisions left to make, he took a deep breath, pushed the door ajar, and released another notoriously unbearable, ear-grating screech into the room. From downstairs, his partner not only picked up a faint echo of screaming, but also the thump of tenants collapsing to the flooring and subsequent silence.</p><p>Teleporting back downstairs, the digit returned to the suite, receiving a puzzled look from X. </p><p>“That was unnecessarily loud… oh well, at least the noise is gone now.”</p><p>“I’d just put up with the noise all night, but I’ll be damned if you’re not my friend.”</p><p> </p><p>X peered out the rosy windows on the walls - even through tinted glass, he could notice the night prowling through this mirrored world. Deep shades of elusive darkness painted the vast sky, a smudgy painting broken only by a waning moon. Amusingly, he could still see the faint shadow of a broken-down rocket ship, abandoned until someone else claimed it for their own - the contestants were truly willing to travel great distances to win, after all.</p><p>He remarked to his one and only, “Well, it’s getting dark. We should catch some shuteye, in one of the rare instances we get to do so.” Although the co-hosts didn’t tire as easily as their contestants, they still appreciated being able to take a break and sink into slumber. </p><p>Four was eager to comply with X’s request, but even then he knew that his associate would always ask for one last favor, as usual. An anecdote - be it genuine, fictitious, ludicrous or heart-warming, he would never turn down this frequent request. With his co-host lying on the comfort of the bed, he pulled the blanket over their bodies, bringing his familiar into an embrace.</p><p>“According to my calculations, let’s see… I’m guessing you’d like to hear a tall tale before conking out, no?”</p><p>“Of course! They never get old.”</p><p>Tucking one of X’s nubs into the crook of his neck, Four gazed into the eyes of his significant other, who returned an inquisitive, hopeful stare. Noticeably, the number had a new facial expression - unlike that of his usual menacing leer, a subtle, yet genuine smile broke through his stoic demeanor.</p><p>“Alright, then. Once upon a time, two co-hosts of an ancient challenge, just like you and I, met each other...”</p><p> </p><p>“...And they were roommates.”</p><p>“Oh my God, they were roommates.”</p><p>X pushed his body forward with his limbs, into the softness of the blankets and the warmth of his datemate’s chest. Though the locals would joke about Algebraliens being hollow inside, he knew firsthand that was merely an inaccurate assumption. If they were right, why could he hear the unwavering beat of Four’s heart? And why did it tick faster with each little interaction?</p><p>In response, the number softly giggled and purred back, “Crumbs, that tickles.” He didn’t mind one bit, though - using his capabilities of flexibility, he coiled his arms around X several times, gently rubbing small circles onto the symbol’s back. The few sounds he could hear were quiet peals of Laughter from both of them, and the unmistakable flutter of his lover’s heart. Such a rhythm was adjacent to silence, merely audible yet swift as the flap of a butterfly’s wings.</p><p>Both basked in the faint glow of moonlight falling on the bed, transforming the room into a boudoir of affection for the night. Shutting off the lamp, the taller digit leaned into the shape of the variable. Even within the privacy of a locked room, they whispered one last secret to each other.</p><p>“X, you’re quite variable - but you’re my most precious treasure, my irreplaceable significant figure. I love you, my cherished pinhead.”</p><p>“My collection of emeralds are nice to look at - but you, my significant figure, are of incomparable value. I love you too, my dearest idiot.”</p><p> </p><p>Uttering sweet nothings to each other in a hushed tone, wrapping each other in a mutual cuddle, listening to the pumping of both their hearts, they succumbed to drowsiness in tranquil darkness, under the shine of the Goikan moon.</p><p>Two aliens alone in the world, adapting together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Being in quarantine for over half of 2020 is fucking boring, you hear that?<br/>That is why within forty-eight hours of jumping into BFB and nearly two weeks ago, I started planning this in my iPhone Notes on Sunday, at three o' clock in the morning. In the early stages of writing, I moved the rest to a Google Document.<br/>Now, here we are.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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